The sound of steel clattering against cobblestone was becoming the castle's new morning alarm.
Melissa had learned to stop reacting every time a crash echoed through the hallways, but today's racket was… exceptional.
She sighed as she opened the door to the courtyard. The sight before her made her pinch the bridge of her nose.
Half the knights — Isaac's mysterious "relatives' soldiers" — were sprawled on the ground, groaning. The other half were trying to stand straight, helmets slightly askew, attempting to look dignified while one of them held a steaming cup in hand.
"My cup…" Melissa murmured.
The knight turned toward her, visor gleaming with innocence. "Ah! Morning, Miss Melissa!" His voice was cheerful, muffled behind the metal helm. "Fine weather, yes? Excellent brew! Highly stimulating!"
"That," she said, her tone dangerously calm, "is my tea cup."
The knight looked down at the cup in his gauntlet — indeed, her favorite porcelain cup — and then looked back at her. "Ah… borrowing, my lady. For morale."
"…Morale," she repeated.
"Indeed! The lads perform better with caffeine!"
Melissa blinked twice, then exhaled slowly. "Very well. Do not break it."
"Understood!" The knight saluted, sloshing half the drink onto his armor.
Melissa had spent most of her life serving nobles, mages, and mercenaries, before being bought. She'd seen soldiers of every type — disciplined, lazy, cruel, kind — but she had never seen an army like this.
These "Gray Knights" were… strange.
Their armor was plain but sturdy, their movements uncoordinated but purposeful, and their presence — undeniably strong. When she looked at them through her half-elven eyes, she could see threads of mana glowing faintly from within their bodies.
It wasn't Fire, Water, Wind, or Earth — none of the elemental signatures she was used to. It was Neutral Mana — the purest, most fundamental type of magical energy, unaligned and untainted.
The kind of mana that could be shaped into anything.
She could barely believe it.
"Neutral mana in this quantity… impossible," she whispered under her breath, watching one knight try to hammer a bent spear straight and nearly smack himself in the helmet.
These weren't ordinary mercenaries. No human army could create this many beings with balanced mana flow — not without years of training or magical engineering.
They were strong, certainly… but so clumsy that she couldn't decide whether to be relieved or horrified.
Still, Isaac had somehow managed to summon them overnight.
She didn't understand how — and perhaps she didn't want to.
If the young lord had connections capable of producing such soldiers, even fools, then maybe House Wesk still had a chance.
She sighed and walked toward a group of knights resting by the stables. They saluted immediately, their voices overlapping awkwardly.
"Lady Melissa!"
"Ma'am!"
"Uh—Good morning, Lady Melissa!"
"Relax," she said, motioning for them to sit. "I'm here to treat your injuries."
"Oh, we're fine!" one protested, though his shoulder plate was clearly dented.
Another added proudly, "We don't feel pain! Mostly."
"Mostly?" she repeated flatly.
The knight hesitated. "Sometimes when we fall down stairs, it hurts a little."
She pinched her nose again. "Just sit still."
Melissa fetched her healing kit — herbs, bandages, and a few minor enchantment scrolls she'd saved from better days. Though she wasn't a priestess, her elven blood made her sensitive to the flow of life energy. She could guide it, soothe it — even through metal armor.
One by one, she treated them. Their bodies were strange beneath the armor — too solid, too resilient, as if their flesh wasn't entirely human.
When she laid a hand on one's shoulder, she felt mana respond to her touch — neutral, steady, disciplined yet oddly empty. Like an artificial flame that burned without heat.
"Does this hurt?" she asked one of them.
"Not at all, my lady!" he said cheerfully. "Though it tickles a bit. Wait, is that normal?"
"I don't think anything about you people is normal," she murmured.
"Thank you!" he said proudly.
"…That wasn't a compliment."
By midday, Melissa had patched up nearly fifty of them — cleaned, bandaged, or scolded depending on the case. The knights, despite their clumsiness, were polite to a fault. They thanked her for every herb used, every scratch treated.
Some even offered her coins from their nonexistent pockets, which only made her question reality further.
When she finally finished, she stood back, hands on her hips.
"At least you're obedient," she admitted.
"Obedience is our strength!" one shouted, puffing his chest proudly.
Another immediately tripped over a broom.
"Yes," she muttered, "your greatest strength."
Meanwhile, Isaac Wesk was out in the town — or what passed for a town.
A collection of cottages, dirt roads, and fields stretched from the base of his hilltop castle. The people lived simply, wary of strangers. But today, they were staring in shock and confusion as nearly a hundred gray-armored knights followed Isaac through the streets.
He'd expected whispers. He didn't expect applause.
When you live on the edge of a monster-infested zone, even incompetent knights look like heroes.
"See?" Isaac said under his breath, grinning. "This is what good PR looks like."
Behind him, two of the knights were attempting to teach children how to swing wooden sticks safely. Another pair helped an old woman carry firewood.
One knight was juggling apples to make the children laugh.
Another accidentally stepped in a chicken coop and apologized to the hens.
It was chaos.
But it was friendly chaos.
The people needed that.
"Lord Wesk!" an old farmer called, approaching with a toothless smile. "Are these… real knights?"
Isaac laughed nervously. "Of course! My family sent them from afar. Reinforcements."
The farmer's eyes gleamed with relief. "Finally! The beasts will think twice now, eh?"
"Yes," Isaac said, pretending confidence. "They'll… definitely think twice."
Behind him, one of his knights slipped on mud and face-planted into a hay bale.
The old man didn't seem to notice.
As the sun neared its peak, the weekly market began — what the villagers grimly called Friday Famine.
It was the day when the farmers brought their surplus crops into town for trade. The name came from how quickly food disappeared, leaving everyone scrambling by evening.
Isaac stood near the fountain in the town square, smiling as his knights helped unload wagons. They were clumsy, but earnest.
Children followed them like ducklings. Women laughed at their strange jokes. Even the usually grim blacksmith chuckled when a knight offered to "sharpen his own sword for morale."
For the first time in years, laughter echoed through the market.
Isaac allowed himself a small moment of peace. Maybe this could work.
Maybe, with the System and these strange soldiers, he could turn this dying fief into something alive again.
"Lord Wesk!"
He turned. It was one of the older farmers — a man named Darv, sweat-soaked and smiling. Three others followed him, carts heavy with grain.
"We're just in time for the market, my lord. And by the gods, I can't believe my eyes — real knights again!"
Isaac smiled. "Yes, they're—"
Darv clapped him on the shoulder. "You've given us hope again, boy! Maybe we won't have to sleep with pitchforks tonight."
"Uh—thank you?" Isaac said awkwardly.
The three farmers went to unload their crops.
Then, moments later, the fourth wagon came — not with crops, but people. A man, a woman, two children — pale, panting, eyes wide with terror.
"The beasts are coming!" the man shouted, stumbling off the wagon.
The square fell silent.
Isaac's smile faded instantly. "What did you say?"
The man collapsed to his knees, gripping his wife's hand. "Copper Beasts! We saw them crossing the forest line — too many to count!"
"Where?" Isaac demanded, heart pounding.
"East ridge!" the farmer gasped. "They're coming fast—"
Before Isaac could speak, metal clanked behind him.
The Gray Knights — all of them — had already begun moving.
No hesitation. No panic.
They formed into squads, grabbing weapons, checking shields, shouting commands that sounded half-trained but still sharp.
Isaac blinked in surprise. "They… they're organizing?"
One knight turned to him, saluting. "Orders, my lord?"
Isaac opened his mouth to give some grand speech — but another knight was already rallying the others.
"Form up at the eastern gate! Shields forward! Formation Bravo—uh, wait, which one was Bravo again?"
"Left, you idiot!" someone shouted.
"Yes! Formation Left!"
They charged toward the gate, clanking, stumbling, and shouting war cries that sounded more enthusiastic than coherent.
Isaac watched them go, torn between pride and disbelief. "At least they have spirit…"
He turned to the villagers. "Everyone inside! Lock your doors! Melissa—!"
Back at the castle, Melissa looked up from tending the injured when she felt it — the air shifted.
A ripple of mana tremored through the valley, faint but clear. Her elven senses flared.
"Copper-tier beasts," she murmured. "And many of them."
A moment later, Isaac burst into the courtyard, panting. "Melissa! Gather everyone inside the castle walls! Now!"
She didn't ask questions — just nodded and began shouting orders to the servants.
"The beasts?" she asked while directing a young boy to close the stables.
"Coming from the east," Isaac said, grabbing his sword — one of his father's old relics. It felt heavy, unfamiliar, but right. "The knights are already at the gates."
Melissa paused, eyes widening. "Already?"
He nodded. "They moved before I even told them to."
"…So they can think," she muttered, half to herself.
"Barely," Isaac replied. "But I'll take it."
At the eastern gate, the Gray Knights stood in formation — uneven, slightly crooked, but determined. Shields raised, swords drawn, armor gleaming in the sunset.
They looked ridiculous.
They looked magnificent.
"Brothers!" shouted one, raising his sword. "We may fall today!"
"Wait, what?!" another shouted.
"—But we'll do it gloriously!"
"Oh, okay then!"
Isaac arrived just as the ground began to tremble — distant roars echoing from beyond the trees.
He drew his blade, standing beside them. "You all ready?"
A knight looked at him, helmet tilting slightly. "Always, my lord. We may not be smart—"
"That's accurate," Isaac muttered.
"—but we are yours to command!"
For a moment, Isaac actually felt something stir inside him — pride. Not just for them, but for himself.
He wasn't the forgotten noble anymore.
He was the lord of these idiots.
And together, they would fight.
The trees shook.
Eyes glowed in the dark.
Copper-ranked beasts — tusked, scaled, and snarling — emerged from the forest edge.
Isaac raised his sword. "Archers—wait, we don't have archers. Knights! Hold!"
"Hold!" they echoed, clanging armor.
The roars grew louder.
Isaac's heart pounded. The villagers prayed behind the walls. Melissa watched from the ramparts, her eyes glowing faintly with mana, ready to intervene if needed.
The first beast charged.
And the Gray Knights roared back.
The battle for House Wesk had begun.
> [Castle Prosperity: +7%.]
[Castle Defense Engaged.]
[Next Reward at Prosperity 10% — Elemental Knight Unlock Available.]